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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26699665">the side effects of joy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespareoom/pseuds/thespareoom'>thespareoom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist!Obi-Wan, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, fem!reader - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:33:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26699665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespareoom/pseuds/thespareoom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Your most frequent client also happens to be one of your most frustrating. Overly inquisitive and always doubting your advice. But when quiet but enthusiastic Ben comes to volunteer at your vet clinic, you might find more than just some extra help around the office. Maybe he's just the spot of joy that your life has been missing.</p><p>[or: a wildly ooc self-indulgent au i decided to make about finding your purpose in life]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>these chapters have all been written and posted months apart because I can't seem to find any consistency with it<br/>so basically, if it doesn't flow or you find continuity errors... no you didn't</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Just one last client.” Alex passes you the folder with a smirk. “He’s already in the room.”</p><p>You look down to see the name “Kenobi, Ben” printed in careful letters across the front. You let out a small groan and cover your face with the file. The little patience you have left starts to seep out of your body.</p><p>“You sure you don’t want to take this for me?”</p><p>“Yeah, right,” she retorts. “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget to lock up.”</p><p>Alex gives your arm a quick squeeze before grabbing her keys and exiting out the back door. You sit in silence for a beat after she’s gone, gathering the strength for your most winning smile. Work always felt like a drag these days. There was once a time when you were young and ambitious, ten years ago when Alex first agreed to open this practice with you. Your oldest friend, Alex suffered through undergrad and vet school by your side. Through post-grad euphoria and now through the burnout. She was an exceptional doctor and an even more extraordinary friend. </p><p>You take a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing through the door into the exam room. In the chair in the corner sits a man you see far too often, your most frequent client. He’s dressed simply, jeans and a white t-shirt, a red flannel sitting askew on his shoulders. A shadow of a beard grows from his cheeks. His hair, golden-red and softly wavy, falls forward, casting most of his face in a shadow as he stares down at his lap. A tiny black kitten sits curled underneath one of his large hands, tufts of fur popping up in between his fingers.</p><p>“I see you’ve found another stray, Mr. Kenobi.” You lean back against the sink counter on the far side of the small room, casually glancing at him over the edge of his file as you flip through it. His focus remains on the tiny tuft in his lap.</p><p>“Yeah, she showed up outside my place this afternoon, looking like she needed a home.”</p><p>You watch his face change into a smile, warmth blossoming from him as he starts to talk about this creature he’s saved. His world, his focus and attention, it’s always consumed by his rescues Emotion rises in your chest, a mix of warmth and gentle annoyance. </p><p>“Let me take a look at her.” You step forward and scoop her tiny body out of his outstretched hand. He hesitates slightly to release her into your care, and that tinge of annoyance grows. That slight pause, as if he didn’t trust you, a trained professional, with this little life. The indignation over this disrespect spreads through your chest, but the feeling remains clouded. You’d dealt with disrespect in this office a million times over, but there’s something more to it with him. Disappointment, maybe. An emotion out of place, one to be examined much later, out of sight of this place.</p><p>Your training takes over as soon as an animal is with you, the part of your job that still enriches your life. These moments, connecting with another life and caring for their health, they were the ones that pushed you to the field and continued to remind you why you did this work. You test her vitals, check her weight, feel around her tiny body for anything unusual. The entire time, she purrs with delight at the attention. You smile to yourself, knowing already how perfect this little drama queen will be for the man who has found her.</p><p>“Good news is she’s perfectly healthy,” you say, turning to face him and tilting the kitten gently back into his careful hands. His fingers brush yours for the slightest moment, the calluses rough yet warm against your skin. “The bad news is that this will be your fifth cat, Mr. Kenobi. Are you sure you don’t want us to find a home for her?”</p><p>But he’s already smitten, the hearts practically jumping out of his eyes. Not once since you stepped in the door has his gaze left the tiny cat even once. The loving and affectionate bond between the two radiates around the room. Her little eyes remain fixed on him as well, as if she already knows he would risk the world for her. In the three years he’d been frequenting your practice, Ben Kenobi had never once surrendered a stray he brought in, not even the one time he found a parrot hiding underneath the steps of his apartment. </p><p>“Oh, that won’t be necessary. She’ll fit right in at my place, won’t you?” His fingers scratch gently underneath her chin, her purrs echoing out her approval. He coos at her in response, and you know there’s no sense in reasoning with him any further. You offer him a small smile instead, which naturally, he doesn’t see.</p><p>“Well, you know the drill.” You attempt to quiet the part of your brain that asks you to reach out to him, that begs him to notice you. The impulse is normally quiet, a tucked away notion you rarely recognize, but today exhaustion has weakened your defenses. You sigh softly, returning your professional face front and center. “I’ll check you out up front.”</p><p>He simply nods and gathers his things, continuing to whisper reassuringly to the kitten as he exits through the front door into the lobby. You’re left sitting in silence, a sterile room left with only the scent of him remaining. Impossibly, you feel even more drained than before, and with nothing left inside, your body carries you through the motions of cleaning up the exam room, gathering the proper paperwork, and trekking up to the front desk. Normally you’d attempt to make conversation with a client while they fill out the intake forms, but today the thought of pushing through a one-sided chat with this man feels insurmountably overwhelming. So instead you sit back in the chair, examining the empty lobby, the sign outside, the pins on the desk. Anything else but him. He knows these pages well by now, and only a few minutes pass before he’s sliding them back across the desk to you. A polite smile teases his face for a brief moment before he turns to leave.</p><p>You wheel around in the chair to face the large filing cabinets behind you, Kenobi’s overflowing file in one hand and the new paperwork in the other. The corner of a paper pokes out from the side, the name “Ani” barely visible at the top. His very first adoption. You smile to yourself thinking of the little rat bastard and his perpetual need for attention. Ani was easily your worst patient but also your favorite. Any time he came to visit, he padded around the office at your heels, hissing at anyone who came too close. He always meant well, even if he could be a little demon.</p><p>“You’re hiring?” The melodic tones of his voice ring out from across the empty room, and you realize the door never jingled to announce his departure. Kenobi is still here. You spin back around to face him again, eyeing him with suspicion as he approaches the counter with a flyer in hand. </p><p>“Sort of, yes. It’s more of a volunteer position than a job.” You crinkle your nose a bit, thinking of the last student who worked at your practice. What a disaster that had been. “Why, are you interested?”</p><p>“Perhaps.” He smirks, leaning on his forearms against the counter. The tiny kit slips out of his hand and starts padding around the reception area, exploring a couple of containers of pens. </p><p>“Do you have a name for her yet?” You reach out in a rush to redirect her away from a bowl of thumbtacks. The touch captures her attention, and she curls up into your arm, rubbing her spine along your palm.</p><p>“Still working on it.” He watches his newest family member nibble at your fingertip for a moment before bringing his attention back to the flyer. “So when can I start?”</p><p>You glance up at him, expecting him to be joking, but he looks serious. He’s reading the details off the bottom, finger tracing carefully across the lines. You consider for a moment what it might be like to have him sitting at this desk, </p><p>“You’ve seemed rather busy the last few times I’ve been in.”</p><p>And that wipes the image from your brain, shuttered away by the implication that you might need help. You pull the paper gently out from under his fingertips and place it in the organizer with the other spares.</p><p>“Thanks, Mr. Kenobi, but I think we’ll be okay.” You offer him a tight smile. “Do you have everything you need?”</p><p>He frowns slightly but doesn’t protest. Scooping the cat up under his arm, he tosses a quick “Thanks” in your direction before exiting through the front door.</p><p>In the silence that remains after his absence, you rest your forehead against the cool counter and let out an extended groan. The sound reverberates around the room, echoing against the tile and reminding you of the emptiness of this place. It used to hold so much promise, so much hope for the future, but time has all but melted that away. These days, it’s only ever empty, even on days when the room is packed. The dreams which once permeated these walls have long since dried up with the stress of life. And all the light left in the room departed when your last client closed the door behind him. </p><p>You could kick yourself for asking him to leave, insinuating you didn’t want or need his help. Truthfully, more work existed in this practice than could ever be done by you, Alex, and your two vet techs. Having a successful business was a blessing, to be sure, more than what several of your peers in the field could claim at this stage in their career. You should feel overjoyed but instead, you simply feel overwhelmed. But it’s more than just the work that tugs at your heart and makes you feel heavy inside, like lead has replaced the blood in these veins. There’s something about him that a hidden part of you wants to ask him to stay.</p><p>But that was more than you were ready to admit. So instead, you gather your things, lock the door, and head home alone.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>The following day brings more busyness and chaos, like every other day before it, lining up one after the other and blending together into one. You find one minute of solace in the back between appointments, prepping vaccines for the next patient. The ritual always relaxed you, even going back to your school days, the repetitive and expected nature of the activity. The glass of the vials cool against your skin, the knowledge that something so mindless and ordinary can be so essentially important. Alex pokes her head around the corner, interrupting your process.</p><p>“Hey, I’m about to start an exam, but there’s someone out front you should probably see.”</p><p>You raise an eyebrow at her, and she raises one in return, standing her ground. You carefully recap the syringe in your hand, label it, and follow her around the corner. The reception area is busy as to be expected, clients and pets filling most of the seats around the edge of the room, but one thing is plainly out of place. Rather than an empty chair, the space behind the reception desk is occupied by Ben Kenobi, answering a question on the phone. </p><p>“What happened yesterday after I left?” Alex whispers sharply in front of you.</p><p>“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.”</p><p>“Well, this seems like your fault. I’ll leave you to it.” </p><p>She returns to the back and leaves you to address your apparent new coworker. </p><p>“Sir, can I help you?” You attempt to pass it off as serious, but your tone teases on the edge of humorous, a little shaky around the edges. He holds up a finger in response, indicating a desire to finish this phone call. You do your best to suppress an eye roll as he continues talking to whichever client had the misfortune to call while he sat here. But then, he surprises you. He opens the scheduling software on the computer and flawlessly enters a new appointment into a system you still struggle to comprehend, even after years of using it. </p><p>“How did you know to do that?” you ask after he hangs up, a bit of awe sneaking into your tone. </p><p>“I’ve been here enough times by now,” he shrugs, finalizing the last steps on the program before turning to face you. “How can I help you?”</p><p>“I should ask you the same thing,” you regard him suspiciously. “You don’t work here.”</p><p>A flash of embarrassment flickers across his face but vanishes an instant later. You sit back against the desk next to him and cross your arms over your chest.</p><p>“This position is usually filled by a student for experience. And I can’t pay you.”</p><p>“But you’re not saying no, that’s what I’m hearing.”</p><p>“Why would you want to do this anyway? It’s not exactly thrilling work.”</p><p>He shrugs and turns at the sound of an incoming email, adding a few notes to an upcoming appointment. After saving, he turns to face you once more.</p><p>“I could use something to do.” He senses the residual hesitation in you and presses on. “I can be here Wednesdays and Saturdays. This place is important to me. Let me help.”</p><p>So much of you is tempted to continue to push, to refuse the offer, but his assistance would be intensely valuable, easing a bit of the stress from your shoulders. He focuses his attention fully on you, for what feels like the very first time, and with his eyes, brilliant cerulean and bright as day, trained on your face, you lose the strength to ask him to leave for a second time.</p><p>“Very well,” you finally concede, working to keep your voice steady under the intensity of his gaze. “I’ll need you to sign a few things when you get a chance.”</p><p>He passes you the file of your next patient, his gaze still locked onto you. Reluctantly, you push yourself off the desk, sparing a final glance over your shoulder as you walk back to your office. He’s already turned to answer a client’s question, leaning in to engage with them and nodding as he listens. As soon as you’re out of sight of the front lobby, Alex corners you in the hallway, curiosity teeming off of her.</p><p>“He wants to work reception a few days a week.” The answer comes out more as a question than a statement. She folds her arms in front of her and continues to stare you down.</p><p>“Yeah, sure, and why would he do that?” </p><p>You wish you had an answer to give in return, but since there is nothing in your brain but emptiness and the color of his eyes, you intently study the file in your hand instead, searching intently for nothing within its pages but distraction. She steps closer, clearly not fooled by your attempts to busy yourself, and nudges you gently with her elbow.</p><p>“Just be careful.” Her eyes are warm but cautious, the look of knowing built upon a decade of friendship. “I’d hate to see your heart broken.”</p><p>And she walks away, leaving you behind to wonder how she ever arrived at that conclusion and why her fear felt almost like your own.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moon alone lights his path on his short trek home. His footsteps echo softly against the pavement, a leaf crunching underfoot every few moments, but Ben hardly notices. His feet may have taken him home, but his mind still lingered in the dim office he just departed, amongst the files and tufts of hair and visions of the woman in charge of all that chaos. His face cracks for a moment, smiling at the memory of your quiet indignation, the insistence on denying any help from him. That type of headstrong determination had always been his favorite part of the million things that made up you.</p><p>Before he's given the walk much notice, his steps lead him to his front porch. He turns his key in the lock and pushes open the door. A grumpy coo greets him in the doorway, a tiny gray fluff waiting in the doorway. </p><p>"And hello to you too, Ani." Ben stoops down to give the kit a scratch, but he dodges the affection, determined to maintain his standoffish attitude. Ani still hadn't forgiven Ben for bringing yet another cat into the house, into their lives. He's always been demanding for attention, but this was something new. Ben straightens his back and steps around the cat, tossing his bag onto the couch just past the entryway. The cat would need to be reassured at some point, but Ben lacked the energy to tackle that conversation just now. </p><p>His steps are slow and methodical as he makes his way across the cluttered living room towards his desk. Sitting down, a sigh escapes his lips. The freedom and fulfillment he'd felt in the few hours at the clinic vanishes once real life confronts him once again. He opens his email, knowing nothing will be waiting there but requests from nagging coworkers, asking for work that never sparked anything in him anymore. He runs a hand through his hair, arching his spine to stretch over the back of the chair. A flash of color catches his eye off to the right, but before he can turn, Ani has already knocked over a stack of books from his shelf.</p><p>"ANI!" he shouts after the streaking body, already darting down the hallway out of sight. Ben pushes himself to his feet, resigned for the moment to pick up the mess before dealing with the tiny tyrant who has taken up residence in his home. The books primarily consist of tomes about art and design, full of color and promise, relegated long ago to the role of gathering dust. He shoves them back into place quickly, avoiding the reminders each page is laden with. The final book is not a book at all but a sketchbook from his early college days. Something deep and unnamed threatens to burst in his chest, but he opens the cover anyways, daring to expose his former self contained within. The drawings are everything he now is not - bright, colorful, imbued with hope. Qualities his current creations could never dream of holding. He shuts the cover hastily before the emotions rise and become something real, something to deal with, and shoves the book back where it belongs - on the shelf, unseen, unrecognized.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>The days continue to dawn like all the ones before, exhaustion setting in before the sun is truly up. Every day you question whether today might be the day you stay in bed and refuse to rise. But this day, today, there is reason to drag yourself through the front door of the business you worked so hard to build. A reason you don't give voice to, not to anyone, but today a fresh face will greet you at the front desk. A warm and welcoming face you've done your very best to completely forget about, a feat you failed at miserably.</p><p>"Mr. Kenobi." You give him a short nod and start to walk past him when he thrusts a file in your direction. Catching sight of the name, you nearly run back out the door, back to the safety and ease of bed. </p><p>"Mr. Williams is here for his appointment. Dexter is already checked in and ready to go." </p><p>"Put him in room one."</p><p>"Already done."</p><p>Clinging desperately to your last shreds of professionalism, you refrain from letting out the scream that's building up inside you. Instead, intently studying the file, you walk towards your office in the back, already getting your defenses ready for the day to come. Cameron already waits at the back counter, prepping the vaccines needed for the day, just like they have every other day for the past three years since they started working here. They were applying to vet school soon, and you already dreaded the prospect of having to replace them. The passion and diligence Cam brought to the work wasn't an easy thing to find.</p><p>"Want me to come in on this one?" they ask once you're insight. The news of the office's most pleasant guest spreads quickly. You toss your bags quickly onto your desk before joining them by the sink.</p><p>"I wouldn't subject you to that." You wash your hands with careful precision, the procedure ingrained deep in your brain over years of doing the same. Palms, back of hands, between the fingers, around the wrist, fingernails, and rinse. "I am doing an eye surgery later this afternoon, if you'd like to help me with that."</p><p>Their face brightens at this news "Yeah, of course. I'd be happy to."</p><p>"How's school coming?" You dry your hands with a paper towel and toss it into the massive trash can at the end of the hall. "You're getting ready to start applications soon, right?"</p><p>"Yeah, they're coming along. Trying to figure out what schools I'm really qualified for."</p><p>"Don't worry about any of that." You place a hand on their shoulder and offer a small squeeze of comfort. "Apply where you want to be. You've got excellent scores and experience. Alex and I will write you glowing recommendations. You can get in wherever you want, that much I'm sure of."</p><p>A sheepish frown and whispered thanks is all they can offer in return. You give them another reassuring smile before grabbing the waiting file and entering the exam room where only trouble can await you.</p><p>"Hey, buddy!" you exclaim as Dexter rushes over to greet you. He holds no emotion back, making certain to lick every inch of your face. It was deeply unfortunate that your favorite patient just happened to belong to the biggest asshole that had ever walked into your office. Many pet owners didn't love their vets, didn't trust them to the level they should, but Dan Williams was beyond anything you'd ever seen. Why he didn't transfer to another practice when he held you in such clear disdain, you'd never understood. But he kept coming back, kept questioning every suggestion you'd ever made, kept marveling at your ability to make a living despite your obvious incompetence. Just the type of client you really loved to kick the day off with.</p><p>"What can I do for you today, Mr. Williams?" you ask once Dexter finally calms down, laying on the floor with his head resting on top of your foot. </p><p>"Well," he huffs out in response. "If you'd read the file, you would know. But Dex has got a lump on the side of his rib that the wife is all worked up about. Made me come all the way down here to have it looked at."</p><p>Ah, yes. The bagging on his wife. Have to check that one off the bingo card, and the visit has only just begun. Time would only tell what other classics we would hit on. Maybe his hot receptionist, how he'd rather just leave the dog at the pound if it were up to him, or what completely normal but apparently unendingly aggravating thing his kids are up to. Or, your personal favorite, when the topic changed to you. How you overcharged him to get rich, how you seemed duller than he remembered, some offhand comment about your body, which inevitably led back to his hot receptionist. </p><p>Ignoring the man, for the time being, you sit down on the floor next to Dexter, who happy wags up close to you. Feeling around his side, you quickly locate the lump in question, a simple fatty deposit that would go away on its own. It's a fairly common ailment for dogs, especially in this breed, and one that didn't cause the animal any distress to leave alone. You start to explain the news to Mr. Williams, but he's already interrupting you.</p><p>"Are you sure you looked close enough? I read on the internet it could be a tumor." Ah yes, the internet. Everybody's favorite doctor.</p><p>"I'm quite sure, Mr. Williams. He's had these before, and they've disappeared with no issue, remember?"</p><p>"Damn, you nag worse than my wife." He rolls his eyes and starts to gather his things, muttering something under his breath about his receptionist, a comment you don't regret missing. </p><p>"Mr. Kenobi can check you out in the front. I will be up shortly."</p><p>You quickly gather up the papers, give Dexter another scratch and a treat, and exit through the back door. Catching Cameron's eye on your walk up front, you dramatically roll your eyes and toss them a wink. All things considered, he could have been much worse today. And for some inexplicable reason, your mood seems a bit lighter today. You pass the paperwork to Ben and quickly show him how to create charges in the system. He catches on without a hitch, running the card and printing out the receipt. Mr. Williams taps his pen against the counter, impatient as always despite Ben's incredible efficiency. When he gets the bill (finally, as he says), he looks ready to argue over the fee yet again, but instead, he signs the receipt and turns towards the door. He's almost made it outside and out of your hair when he turns for one last jab.</p><p>"And hey, lay off that cake you got in the back. Don't want to wreck your figure, sweetheart."</p><p>And to think, we almost got through the whole appointment without any derogatory comments about you. Deciding to ignore the fact that he had somehow snuck into your back offices and seen the birthday cake leftover from one of your weekend employees, you push forward, desperate to remove him from this space as quickly as possible.</p><p>"I'll keep that in mind."</p><p> As Dexter's tail disappeared out the door, you finally exhaled fully. Minimal damage had been done, all things considered.</p><p>"Want me to go beat him up?" The voice startles you, but the surprise only grows when you turn to see your new office mate absolutely fuming behind the desk, glaring daggers through the glass. The genuine anger on your behalf written across his face catches you off guard. "I'll do it, don't worry."</p><p>"That's alright, Mr. Kenobi. I think I can handle it."</p><p>"Ben," he says, turning to face you, his expression softer than a moment before. "Please, it's Ben."</p><p>"Sure," you nod, turning to exit the room. "Let me know when someone else checks in."</p><p>The remainder of the day passes without event, a relief considering the strains the morning brought. Surprisingly, the day seems to go easier than most, and you know that can only be due to the man sitting in your lobby.  Files that normally pile up on the back counter are instead put away after each appointment. Patients show up in rooms before you can even ask, their files placed in the basket outside the room. Each new file contains slips of paper clipped to the outside noting little things such as general disposition or unusual reports from the owner. Once, after exiting an exam room, a cup of water sits next to the sink with a note beside it saying "Drink me!" Whoever left it there (as if there were any doubt) doodled a little potion bottle from Alice in Wonderland next to the scrawled print. You let the gesture warm your heart for a moment or two before tossing yourself back into the work of a busy day.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>It's mid morning when Alex pulls you aside to dance through your weekly ritual of asking you to have dinner. She always knows you'll make up an excuse to say no, but she asks anyway. Because she's a wonderful friend like that.</p><p>"How about this week?" she jumps straight in, knowing the routine of your regular Wednesday conversation. "Come by the house and have dinner with me and Angie. She hasn't seen you in ages and never stops nagging me about getting you to come over."</p><p>You sigh, pretending to consider, all the while knowing the next words to come out of your mouth. The dance was well choreographed by this point. She always asked, you always said no. You came up with some excuse, usually something work related. And it wasn't a lie, necessarily. You always went home and read new journal articles or researched up and coming surgical techniques. But Alex's house was... happy. She and Angie had a life full of joy and excitement, and despite having the same career, despite taking the same path to get here, you couldn't say the same about your own life. Harboring jealousy for your best friend, it wasn't an emotion you liked to encourage. So you avoided those instances which brought about those feelings, and unfortunately, that usually led you to being a pretty shitty friend anyway.</p><p>"I can't," you reply, following the script to the letter. "With everything so busy here, I've gotten crazy behind on keeping up with recent publications. There are at least three research journals and two surgical ones sitting on my kitchen table that I need to get through before more pile up on top of that." All of these things are true, just maybe not as important as you convince yourself they must be. "Maybe next time?"</p><p>Normally, this is her cue to smile and agree, chatting about what plans they might make and bail on later, but today she's not having it. A frown spreads across her face, and somehow you already know you're in for it. </p><p>"You can't waste your life away holed up in that house," she starts. "Taking a few nights off won't tank your career, but it will tank your happiness. I know you think I don't notice that you're unhappy, but I do. Maybe it's time you do something about that."</p><p>Before you can open your mouth to argue, a mop of reddish hair pops around the corner. Ben announces your last appointment is having some issues with payment and requested to speak with you. Seizing on the opportunity to escape a lecture about work-life balance, you quickly take the outstretched file and follow him out front. It's hard to miss Alex's sly grin, the knowing wink, and her absurd comment that surely you'd be able to find time in the day for him if he asked. As if that were remotely relevant to the subject at hand. You fight to keep the heat away from your cheeks, praying to anyone that would listen that Ben was out of earshot for that particular remark. </p><p>* * * * *</p><p>It's early afternoon by the time you remember Ben has to fill out paperwork. Or rather, it's early afternoon when he reminds you of it. Embarrassed that he had to remind you of your own duties, you tuck your head and motion for him to follow you into your small office. </p><p>The space feels even smaller with him in it, and for the first time, you notice the mess everywhere. Your face gets hot thinking about how it must look to him. The papers scattered across the table, piles of old research journals, stacks of pet food and litter. The light bulb in the ceiling fixture you never replaced, the flickering lamp threatening to toss the room into darkness at any moment. He sits down in the only empty chair while you dig through a folder, looking for the few forms he'll need.</p><p>"Nothing too much," you mutter, placing the few pages in front of him. "Just an emergency contact form, liability, and computer use."</p><p>"Pen?"</p><p>"Right." You unearth a working pen from the cup of assorted writing utensils next to your computer and pass it over. His focus remains on the pages, brow furrowed slightly as he starts to fill in the blanks. Only the scratches of pen against paper fill the empty air.</p><p>"So..." you venture, trying to break the silence that's beginning to teeter into the uncomfortable. "What do you do that you're able to come here during the day?"</p><p>He doesn't answer for a long moment, and you worry that you've struck a sensitive chord. That this is something you should have known about this man before now, something as simple as what his job is, and that maybe there's a reason you haven't known.</p><p>"I'm a cartoonist," he replies after a long pause.</p><p>"That sounds interesting." You wait for a moment, uncertainty clawing up inside you. "Do you enjoy it?"</p><p>He just shrugs in response, not looking up from the forms. "It's alright."</p><p>Unsure where to go from there, you let the silence fill the room once more as he finishes with the small stack of papers. Something about him makes your words get lost in the translation between brain and tongue, and for all the things you'd like to tell him, to ask him, no sound comes from you but the squeak of your shoe and the obsessive click of the pen in your fist. He finishes the forms a moment later, passing them across the table to you, and heads back out front, leaving you alone once more.</p><p>* * * * * </p><p>It's just past closing time when Ben pops around the corner to tell you he's heading out for the day. He gives a small wave, you offer a quick thank you, and he leaves. A sharp elbow finds its way into your ribs. Looking to your left, Alex raises her eyebrow at you, quietly nudging you towards a direction you're not sure you're ready to take.</p><p>"Babe, you gotta do better than that."</p><p>You glare at her for a long moment, weighing the options, before finally landing on, "Fine."</p><p>Before you tell them what to do, your feet guide you out to the lobby, and before your brain can catch up, your hand is reaching out to catch his wrist and turn him to face you. </p><p>"Hey, sorry." Suddenly aware of your skin still touching his, you grasp your hands behind your back. "I just wanted to thank you for everything you did today. Hard though it may be to admit, you made my life a lot easier."</p><p>He offers only a small smile in return, a nod of the head, before turning and walking out into the night.</p><p>"Real slick!" Alex hollers with a snort from behind you, but you barely hear her jest. For the second time in so many days, your brain is empty but for thoughts of cerulean blue.</p>
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